


sincerity, sweet child

by dekupages



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, because this fic was written for the Art, but its for an artist not on ao3 so, hopin that doesnt mean i read this fic later when im awake and its Terrible, i mean its a collab, im a little tired, point being there's Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14715335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dekupages/pseuds/dekupages
Summary: There is a pond, and time to think. Fern doesn't do so hot.





	sincerity, sweet child

When Finn was little, everything seemed so big and so fast- even him. He had big emotions- everything felt so much and sometimes it got a little overwhelming, but it felt good most of the time. Bright and careless.

Then Finn grew up.

It felt like... snow melting in the sun. Drip-drip-dripping away, as Finn felt smaller and smaller, as the world got duller and heavier. As his feelings drip-drip-dripped away until he felt like a shadow of himself. It felt like his vault just kept getting bigger til sleep was something to dread. It felt like the sudden realization that he was old enough for all the things he wanted and now he doesn't want them. It felt like he wasn't Finn anymore, just someone who inherited his face.

And then he was Fern.

\--------

Green and brown tug and catch beneath his grassy hands as he climbs carefully down the old tapestry of vines and wood woven into the side of the cliff. His strange two-toed feet grip better than his- Finn's shoes ever could, but looking at them still sends unease crawling up his... does he even have a spine?

At the bottom, he hops off. He raises an arm in front of his eyes to point at the sky, then the other perpendicular-

"OW!"

He does seem to have bones. Or at least something similar. If he didn't, punching his own arm wouldn't hurt that much...

"... ow, ow, ow, why did I do that..."

His mumbles trail off as he approaches the crystal blue water.

He's surrounded on all sides by sharp cliffs that curl into a bowl at the base. In front of him is a huge stone wall, crumbling and overgrown, carved with intricate sigils in strangely sharp designs. At the base is a square door inset with green and yellow gems- probably how he was supposed to get in. He spares a glance back to the hole he sliced in the woven roof- the branches and vines should have been way too tough for a simple sword to defeat.

Fern's more than a simple sword though.

He looks down at the pond, ice blue and crystal clear. It's a perfect bowl, made out of... porcelain maybe? He tap-tap-taps the cool, light blue material. Doesn't sound like it... well, probably doesn't matter. He's got a magic sword- he'll slice it to shards if it tries anything. The pond's about as big as the top bough of the treehouse- the perfect size for a dip.

He slides a toe into the water, and instantly, the world is bathed in soft daylight.

Soft sun-blue light diffuses gently through the basin, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. It's not in the water, or the walls, or the door, or the branches- it just... is. It seems to generally be coming from above, but it's still weird. It's banished the mottled shadows cast by the roof almost completely blocking the noon sun.

His sword is already out on reflex, but a beat of waiting goes by without anything else happening, so he lets himself drop gently into the chilled pool.

It doesn't take long for him to end up on his back, hood tucked away behind him and strange fibrous hair haloing his floating form. It twists around his arms, his ankles, loops around him like a cocoon. Content pink blooms in his makeshift aura, smattered with a more neutral white.

He can stay here. Just for a while.

He closes his eyes.

\--------

Finn to Fern. Drip-drip-dripping away, until everything turned grey, till even the whites and blacks had mottled edges. And then green, green and red, green like a new body he hated and green like a demon he couldn't quite remember and red like sharp edges everywhere he turned, red like everything he touched because everything was so bright and so loud again but he's still small, and this time it's not bright-happy just angry, red drowning every color in rage and fear and anger and more rage and more rage and more rage- it's like he's forgotten to be a person, just a sword, just a sharp edge-

Finn but worse. Finn but wrong. Finn in a warped mirror. Finn-Finn-Finn-Fern.

Finn didn't feel like Finn. Fern felt like Finn.

And the universe laughed and his friends were someone else's friends and his brother was someone else's brother-

He got his color back all wrong. All his shades collapsing into crimson-scarlet-candy-cherry-red. All his shades collapsing into emerald-olive-forest-juniper-green. And he has those- he has these colors now, and he hates that he's made new with new eyes and sees a whole new color he's never seen before, and it drowns him, holds his head beneath the waves and waits for him to choke on everything that's dripping from his leaking patchwork mind.

He is as Finn as Finn but Fern. Finn feels incomplete like Fern except Finn feels too little and Fern feels too much and all of this collapses in like- like- like-

Fern the Human. Not Fern Mertens- no second name like a weight tied to him. No second name like a faucet to drip-drip-drip from. Finn Mertens doesn't feel like Finn the Human- but Fern the Human does.

And the universe laughs and laughs and laughs.

\--------

Melancholy blue drifts gently around troubled sleep. Fern curls his hands and tries not to dream. It's peaceful here in the half-light. He has no blood to keep himself warm, so he just slows down as the water chills in the setting sun. Maybe if he slows down enough, he won't have enough energy left to dream. Maybe if he slows down enough, he can just be content in this strange body, not enough extra energy to twitch in his not-skin. Not enough energy to want to cry, and then to be furious when this body won't even let him do that. Maybe he'll slow down enough to sleep, and dream something good.

Just a little longer. He can stay here just a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> first of all: http://madgoatsworld.tumblr.com/post/173580210060/fern-needs-this is the art!! good artist, good fern, A+
> 
> second: ferns in flower language apparently mean fascination, confidence, magic, and shelter according to most things but sincerity according to one thing. sincerity fit better with the theme tho so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> third: i 100% based finn/fern's description of their depression off of how i describe mine
> 
> fourth: i dont think fern has bones, since he can shapeshift, he just sort of assumed bones=hurting. i thought it was kind of a cute character moment but going back im not sure it fits?? hm.
> 
> fifth: im gonna work on cataclysmic in your valor after i play some stellaris


End file.
